


drabble af

by huffpuffmcguff



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Drabble, Established Relationship, F/F, Future Fic, Humor, hopefully these situations will make you laugh, it's pretty damn cute if ur into that kinda thing, some of it involves them with a kid, they made me laugh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 08:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2805647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huffpuffmcguff/pseuds/huffpuffmcguff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just hella cute, funny drabbles about Laura and Carmilla's life together, literally no plot at all, just ideas that made me laugh/smile/devolve in a puddle of mush</p>
            </blockquote>





	drabble af

**Author's Note:**

> idk guys idk, i just spend a lot of brainpower these days thinking about carmilla and laura and the quirks of their relationships and i just kept thinking like, _how funny would it be if carmilla didn't believe in ghosts_ or _what if carmilla sleeps in laura's favorite dumb fandom shirts_ , or _how cute would it be if big bad vampire carm is like super nice to struggling waiters_ and it's like, i can't escape these thoughts and they happen every moment of the day it's always something random that just fuckin' tickles me to no end, and i can't deal with it all
> 
> sorry that the last one ends as a great smut set-up but i'm incapable of writing smut
> 
> anyway this is all entirely garbage don't worry about it

“It’s your turn!"

“Honestly? Do I have to do it right this minute?"

“Yes.” Laura is holding a snow shovel out to a dejected Carmilla, who takes it begrudgingly.

“It’s just going to snow again tonight."

“Well then, if you don’t shovel today, it’ll still be your turn tomorrow, and it’ll be twice as much work.” Carmilla may be centuries older than Laura, but she can’t deny that Laura is infinitely smarter than she is. Or at least more practical.

“Fine,” she mutters.

Carmilla pulls on her jacket and trudges out to the driveway, the shovel balanced on her shoulder. She _loathes_ shoveling snow. It’s not that it’s hard work, because she’s a vampire and such tasks don’t exhaust her like they do humans. It’s that she finds it infinitely boring (especially since Laura had banned her from using her vampiric speed outdoors/in public), and she has _so many_ better things to do.

But, she thinks, there might be a loophole: Laura had never said anything about _spontaneous combustion_.

Carmilla looks around.

Not a soul in sight.

She takes a deep breath and concentrates on the snowy patch in front of her. Within seconds, it begins to melt and trickle away. She grins and draws her eyes to the next snowy patch. She salts the driveway as she goes, so that the water won’t freeze back into ice.

She’s nearly done with the driveway within just a few minutes, until-

SLAM!

Carmilla gasps and jumps, ripped away from her concentration, to see her old man neighbor across the street, getting out of his car with a perplexed look on his face. _Shit,_ Carmilla thinks, and she grits her teeth into a forced smile and waves cordially.

“Hi there, Mr. Rosenberg, how are the grandkids?"

 

* * *

 

 

They’ve settled into a routine in the evenings, laying in bed together after dinner, with Carmilla reading and Laura typing away at her most recent article. They’re always touching in one form or another, whether their legs are crossed over one another’s, or Carmilla is leaning against Laura’s shoulder, or any other variant of cuddling in which they can both be more or less productive.

But Laura’s not being productive tonight. She's just emailed a column to her editor earlier that evening, so she’s taking the time to surf around the internet, and she finds herself on a travel website with some sort of dwarf as its mascot.

“We should go somewhere.” Laura murmurs, scrolling down a list of destinations. Carmilla lowers her book.

“I’ll take you wherever you want to go, Cupcake,” Carmilla responds, and scoots closer to her girlfriend to see her screen. “What are you looking at?"

“There’s all different places- look! Apparently this hotel in New York is like, _super_ haunted."

“Bullshit,” Carmilla scoffs.

“What’s bullshit? You don’t think this hotel actually has ghosts?”

“No such thing.” Carmilla shrugs, and Laura is dumbfounded.

“How can you _even_ say that? Especially after we spent _four years_ at Silas University?” Laura asks, completely perplexed.

“Because a ‘ghost’ presumes that there isn’t a vehicle for the soul anymore.” Laura just stares, confused, so Carmilla continues, “The soul can’t just float around in some kind of ethereal mass. Without a person, or some other conduit, it would just dissipate. The soul has to be conveyed by something, and the person that the soul occupied is dead."

“Says the undead vampire."

“Yeah, _un_ dead. And I have a physical body."

Laura is silent for a minute, then, ever inquisitive, she asks, “So then, what about JP?"

“That’s a different case,” Carmilla reasons, "I guess JP’s soul transferred from his body into another medium of consciousness - the Silas library computers, and then later, that flash drive. I’ll admit it was unprecedented, but crazier things have happened."

“Crazier things like, I don't know, maybe some kind of mystical transference that we can’t cognitively comprehend or fully perceive on this plane, that might allow the souls of the dead to occupy another dimension that sometimes bleeds into our own?” Laura offers, and Carmilla rolls her eyes.

“Fine, book the hotel, Cupcake, let’s see how haunted it really is,” Carmilla challenges.

“No way, we’ve been through enough.” Laura clicks to another tab, looking at someplace tropical.

“Are you scared, Cutie?” A smile grows on Carmilla’s face.

“No! Well, yeah, kinda, I mean, you said yourself they don’t have a physical body, so like _how do you fight them?_ ” Laura is gesturing emphatically, “I mean, a hungry light, sure, just a Blade of Hastur to the source, that’s direct enough. But how do you stop something that can poof through walls?"

“I can poof through walls."

“Yeah, but I’m not scared of _you_."

“Maybe you should be,” and then Carmilla is tickling Laura until she can’t breathe, and Laura thinks this might _actually_ be how Carmilla kills her.

 

* * *

 

 

 _“CARM!”_ Laura shrieks.

“What is it?” Carmilla appears in the bathroom doorway in mere seconds, wild-eyed.

“There’s a spider on the shower handle!” Laura is standing at the far end of the bathroom, and won’t take her eye off the spider, lest it scurry somewhere and she lose track of it.

“Oh my God.” Carmilla drops her head into her hands. “Cupcake, you cannot scare me like that, I thought you were in actual danger."

“Oh, _I’m_ sorry, but have you seen how big that spider is? I think this constitutes mortal peril.” Laura shoots back, and Carmilla chuckles.

“I’ll be right back, keep an eye on it.”

“ _Hurry!_ "

Moments later Carmilla returns with a cup and a postcard of the Austrian Alps. She gingerly approaches the spider, while Laura looks on from a safe distance. She gets close enough that the spider tries to scurry away, but she’s faster than it is, and she traps it under the cup, then slips the postcard underneath to carry the spider outside.

“Why don’t you just kill it?” Laura asks.

“I… I don’t really like to kill anything I don’t have to.” Carmilla replies with a shrug, and Laura’s face softens.

“Oh,” Laura says gently, "That’s… sweet,” and Carmilla smiles faintly.

“Okay, but take it outside then, if that’s what you’re gonna do,” Laura says quickly, “And take it out far away from the door. I think it’s plotting its revenge as we speak."

 

* * *

 

 

It’s summer, and Laura has taken a week off from work to spend some time with Carmilla. They go to the beach, and though the sun is too strong for Carmilla during the day, Laura finds that it’s not so unpleasant to adopt a vampiric sleeping schedule. They stay in bed (sleeping, or partaking in other activities) until late afternoon, when they venture out to enjoy oceanside dinners and lounge on the beach.

One particular evening, Carmilla is settling into her beach chair to face the forthcoming sunset, and she looks over at Laura, admiring the view of her girlfriend's tanned legs as she leans over to retrieve two cold beers from the cooler. But then, further down the beach, something catches her eye.

It’s a splash of color, which she identifies as a muscle tank, worn by a dudebro who is playing frisbee with another dudebro in a different colored neon tank. Carmilla thinks vaguely that they remind her of their friend Kirsch, at least in stature, but these guys are less puppy-like, and seem more like aggressive alpha-types. By the burns on their shoulders, they’ve clearly been out all day, presumably too drunk to realize that they should’ve taken refuge from the sun several hours ago. They’ve stopped playing frisbee, though, and their bleary eyes are focused on something else. Or rather, _someone_ else. _Her_ someone else.

Carmilla listens intently and, thanks in part to her vampiric hearing but also to the direction of the evening wind, she hears that they have begun discussing pick-up strategies. She bristles instantly. Admittedly, Carmilla can’t blame them, because Laura does look incredible, as always. But she _does_ blame them, because she can’t help it, and Laura is _hers_.

Laura pops the tops off of two beer bottles, and goes to hand one off before settling into her beach chair next to Carmilla’s. But Carmilla wants to make a point.

“C’mere,” Carmilla says, and pulls Laura gently by the waist into her lap. Laura squeaks in surprise.

“Carm! What are you doing?” She giggles as Carmilla presses a kiss to her cheek, her neck, her shoulder. “I have my own chair, right there."

“I want to watch the sunset _with you_ , Cupcake,” she whispers into Laura’s ear, and she can feel her shiver, “can you blame a girl?” Carmilla glances at the dudebros, and their faces are priceless when Laura turns to plant her lips squarely on Carmilla's. She grins into the kiss.

When Laura turns back around to settle against her girlfriend and watch the sunset, Carmilla looks over at the dudebros again. “She’s mine.” she mouths clearly, pointing first at her oblivious girlfriend, then back to herself. Then, to complete the message, she hooks her thumb away in a dismissive motion. “Fuck off."

They shrug defensively, then one taps the other on the arm, and they discuss something quickly that Carmilla can’t quite pick up. They look back at Carmilla, and mouth, along with an sweeping, inclusive gesture, “All of us?"

Carmilla didn’t take well to the proposition of a four-way. She sneers and flips them the bird, mouthing, “You fucking wish,” before turning away from them for good. She wraps her arms around Laura’s waist and rests her head on her shoulders just as the sun is touching the horizon.

Several minutes later, the dudebros are gone, probably to find a bar on the pier where they could pick up more willing hotties. Carmilla is glad to finally have some privacy, and she picks up where she left off with the neck kisses, this time without the burden of an ulterior motive.

 

* * *

 

 

Laura returns from work at 5:00pm, just about Carmilla’s normal waking time. She toes out of her shoes at the front door and pads towards the bedroom, only stopping to drop her bag on a chair in the living room. When she opens the bedroom door, she sees a tussle of black hair on a yellow pillow, absolutely drowning in their fluffy comforter.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” Laura crawls onto the bed to sit cross-legged by Carmilla’s head, and she strokes her girlfriends hair gently.

She’s greeted with a grunt, but Carmilla opens her bleary eyes after a moment and smiles up at Laura, who grins back. Carmilla stretches idly, but makes no move to get out of bed. Laura plants a kiss on her head.

“I’m going to start the laundry, and then we can figure out what we want to do for dinner, okay?” Carmilla hums in agreement and shuts her eyes once more. Laura chuckles, knowing that Carmilla was always slow to get out of bed, but she’d get there eventually. She climbs out of bed to pick up the hamper and start separating laundry.

But, as she’s separating the whites, colors, and blacks, (Carmilla wears enough black to necessitate its own load), she realizes that her favorite t-shirt is missing. It’s a black t-shirt with the Tenth Doctor leaping out of the TARDIS, sonic screwdriver at the ready and Rose Tyler on his heels. She wanders back into the bedroom.

“Carm, do you know where- oh, come on."

Carmilla is sitting up in bed, stretching lazily, wearing that very t-shirt. Laura grins.

“You don’t even watch Doctor Who."

“Oh, is this…?” Carmilla looks down at her shirt, and feigns indifference, “I uh, I just saw a black t-shirt and assumed it was mine."

Laura raises one eyebrow skeptically.

“It smells like you.” Carmilla admits, rolling her eyes.

 

* * *

 

 

They’re out to dinner at Laura’s favorite restaurant, celebrating the publication of a huge, career-making story. But for whatever reason, tonight the restaurant is packed, with frazzled servers rushing to and fro.

A spindly boy of no more than twenty rushes up to their table with a pitcher of water, which sloshes onto the white table cloth as he struggles to keep his composure. “How are you ladies this evening- oops, sorry,” he stammers as water overflows from Laura’s cup as he pours too quickly. “My name is Kevin, I’ll be your server this evening. Can I get you started with some drinks? Appetizers?"

“A bottle of red, and calamari?” Carmilla says to Kevin, looking at Laura for a nod of agreement. “No rush, either, it looks like you guys are slammed, and we don’t have anywhere to be."

Kevin smiles appreciatively and nods, “Yeah, I’ve been working here for a month and a half and this is the busiest I’ve ever seen it.” He picks up the drink menus, then pauses, “Wait, you guys don’t even have breadsticks. I’ll be right back with those, I’m so sorry."

“Don’t worry about it! Just bring them with our calamari, we can survive until then.” Carmilla flashes Kevin a comforting smile.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon!” He rushes off to another table.

Carmilla turns back to her girlfriend, and is met with a half-surpressed smile.

“What?” Carmilla challenges.

“So gregarious tonight, Carm, aren’t you supposed to be a big bad vampire?” Laura smirks.

“The kid’s working hard, I don't want to make his life harder by being difficult.” Carmilla shrugs and surveys the menu. Laura’s smirk hasn’t dropped.

“You’ve gone soft."

“Have _not_."

“Have, too."

Carmilla purses her lips to hide a smile and rolls her eyes, not looking away from her menu.

Kevin returns surprisingly quickly, as promised, with breadsticks, calamari, and a bottle of red wine, which he opens by their table.

“Any questions about the menu tonight?” He asks, slightly out of breath, as he pours their wine.

Laura orders a pasta dish and Carmilla orders a steak, rare, with a baked potato. Kevin rushes off to put their orders in. A little while later he returns, setting the steak down in front of Laura and the pasta in front of Carmilla, before hastily switching them to their rightful places.

“Enjoy! If you need me, just-“ He stops mid-sentence when he realizes that the potato on Carmilla’s plate is mashed, rather than baked. “That’s not what you ordered, is it?” He asks, “I’m so sorry, I can take it right back, and-"

“No, no,” Carmilla stops him with a smile, “It’s basically the same thing. Don’t worry about me, I’ll eat this happily."

“You’re sure?” Kevin asks, apprehensively.

“Positive," Carmilla affirms. “Thank you so much for your service tonight, Kevin, you’ve been very attentive.” Kevin smiles gratefully, and exhales a breath of relief.

“Just flag me down if you ladies need anything else.” Kevin says, before stepping over to the next table to refill their drinks.

Laura smirks at Carmilla again.

“Well, I couldn’t send back a meal that I’m only eating for appearances anyway,” Carmilla justifies.

“Mhm, sure, you big softie,” Laura says smugly.

Carmilla makes a face at Laura, before snaking her fork across the table to steal some of her pasta.

“Hey! I’m the one who actually needs this for sustenance."

Carmilla smiles coyly and pops the forkful of pasta into her mouth.

“Don’t think that stealing my food reinstates your reputation as resident badass."

“If I’m not the badass, then who is, Cutie?"

“Um, I think you forget which one of us has mastered Krav Maga."

They finish their meals, and Laura orders some fancy chocolate dessert, which Carmilla also steals bites from, giggling as Laura tries to swat her hand away.

Kevin brings them their check, and when Laura isn’t looking, Carmilla tips him double.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s Christmas, and, at four years old, Sarah Jane is finally old enough to fully appreciate it. Laura and Carmilla drive out to a Christmas lights show at a nearby botanical gardens, with the little one in a carseat in the back.

“Do you want anything from the store?” Carmilla asks when they stop for gas, and Laura nods.

“Can you get a thing of cookies?”

“Of course, Cupcake,” Carmilla says, before unstrapping their daughter from her carseat to carry her in with her. She walks to the candy aisle with SJ on her hip.

“Alright, little creampuff, what kind of cookies should we get for Momma?” She asks SJ.

“That kind!” The little one points to a packet of chocolate cookies with chocolate chunks. Carmilla smirks, “Like mother, like daughter, huh?” She grabs the cookies, along with two grape sodas and a bottle of grape juice, and heads back to the car.

A couple of hours later, they’re wandering about a garden of lights, and Carmilla has SJ up on her shoulders. She’s holding her daughter’s little legs and pointing to images of Santa and Rudolph and various elves, and reveling in the gasps of wonder she hears above her head. Carmilla looks at Laura and is met with a wide grin, which she returns happily as she takes Laura’s hand. Laura sneaks a kiss to Carmilla’s cheek, and Carmilla snakes an arm around her waist, relishing her warmth against the cold December air.

When they get back to the car later that evening, Sarah Jane is tuckered out, eyes drooping as Laura buckles her into her carseat.

“Momma, can I have another cookie?” SJ asks in a tired voice, when she sees that the packet isn’t empty.

“No, honey, it’s past your bedtime, and Santa is coming tonight. Another cookie will keep you up all night and then Santa won’t come.” Laura kisses Sarah Jane’s forehead.

Carmilla looks in the rearview mirror and sees a dejected looking Sarah Jane. So, before Laura can walk around to the driver’s side of the car, Carmilla grabs a cookie and breaks it in half, offering the larger half to SJ with a sly wink as she takes a bite from the other.

“Don’t tell Momma,” Carmilla whispers, just before Laura opens the driver’s side door. SJ grins happily.

 

* * *

 

 

As it turns out, Laura was right, and by the time they get home, Sarah Jane is bouncing off the walls.

“You didn’t give her a cookie, did you?” Laura asks Carmilla, warningly.

“No, of course not,” Carmilla lies, “Maybe she’s just hit a second wind?”

“Well, do you think you could put her to bed? I’m so exhausted,” Laura sighs, and Carmilla smiles and presses her lips to Laura’s forehead.

“I’ll take care of it, Cupcake, you go to bed. I’ll be right behind you,” Carmilla says, sending Laura off to the bedroom. She turns to Sarah Jane, “Alright, little one, lets get you ready for bed."

A bit later, SJ is finally in her pajamas, and after demanding a story, she seems to have settled down a bit.

“When does Santa get here, Mommy?” SJ asks.

“Later, baby,” Carmilla says, stroking Sarah Jane’s hair, “But he only comes when good little children are fast asleep."

“I want to see him!” Sarah Jane pouts. “Why can’t he come when I’m awake?"

“He has to have it as a rule,” Carmilla explains. “Because imagine if he didn’t. Then, _every_ kid in the _entire world_ would want to meet him, and then _how_ would he have time to get presents to everybody?"

“I guess so,” SJ says, sadly, and Carmilla thinks, if anyone thought she was whipped for Laura, she’s twice as whipped for this kid.

“I have an idea,” Carmilla whispers.

“What?” SJ whispers back, and Carmilla takes her hand and leads her into the living room.

“Are you good at keeping secrets?” Carmilla asks as she sits SJ down at the foot of the Christmas tree. SJ nods. Then she asks, “Are you a good actor?” and SJ nods again.

“Show me your _best_ surprised face.” SJ pulls the most dramatic possible ‘shocked’ face, and Carmilla laughs quietly.

“Perfect. Now, do you think, if I let you peek at _one_ of your presents tonight, you can do that face in front of Momma when you open it for real tomorrow?” Carmilla asks, and SJ nods excitedly. Carmilla roots around under the tree, then picks up a rectangular box.

“Okay, this one is to you from Momma, so you have to act extra surprised for this one tomorrow, okay?” SJ nods that she’s ready, and she reaches for the box.

“Hold on, Sundance, maybe I should unwrap it for you. I don’t want you to rip the paper, because then Momma will know.” Carmilla winks, and delicately peels away the tape and part of the paper to reveal the outside of the box to SJ. “What is it?"

SJ leans closer, and then her eyes go wide. “It’s a pony!” She whispers excitedly. Carmilla turns the box and sees that indeed, inside the clear plastic box is a small pony figurine.

“No way!” Carmilla’s eyes widen to reflect SJ’s excitement. “That’s awesome! What are you gonna name it?"

“I don’t know,” SJ says through a yawn, as Carmilla rewraps the present and places it back where it was beneath the tree.

“Well, maybe you’ll come up with a name tomorrow. We should probably get back to bed before Santa gets here, huh?” Carmilla suggests, and SJ nods tiredly. Carmilla carries Sarah Jane back to bed and tucks her in, but not before a pinky promise that they will take their secret peeking-session to their graves.

Carmilla is closing SJ’s bedroom door softly when she hears a whisper behind her.

“I saw that."

Carmilla jolts, and turns to see Laura standing at the end of the hallway in a large t-shirt and her hair in a low pony-tail. Carmilla smiles sheepishly.

“I couldn’t resist, I’m a sucker for that kid.” Carmilla says.

“You know that peeking at presents on Christmas Eve is _very_ naughty, Carm."

Carmilla recognizes Laura’s tone, and becomes acutely aware of the way Laura is toying with the hem of her oversized t-shirt. She takes a shuddering breath.

“I thought you said you were exhausted, Cupcake,” Carmilla breathes, walking towards Laura at the end of the hallway and taking her waist in both hands. Laura rocks forward onto her toes to brush her lips against Carmilla’s.

“I know, I was," Laura mumbles, "But maybe I’ve hit a second wind?”


End file.
